


Jailbird

by Spones-in-my-bones (KoruLunan)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoruLunan/pseuds/Spones-in-my-bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I do suggest you remain within the medical field, doctor, as singing is not your strongest suit.”</p><p>Spones pre-slash/general. Could be seen more as friendship than pre-slash tbh but hey, shipping goggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jailbird

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of a larger fic idea, but this ended up being the only part I fleshed out so I'm posting it here as a standalone. Written sometime last year and finally decided to post it! Enjoy!

McCoy continued to pace around his cell, as he had been doing on and off for the past few hours. Not very good hosts, keeping him waiting for so long. Though, if they were planning to drag him off to be tortured or the like, he was more than happy to wait as long as his captors wanted, and even longer if he could avoid it.

Unfortunately, he didn't know much about these people or their intentions with him or the Enterprise. The minute they beamed down, they were attacked, McCoy being the first to be knocked out and dumped into a cell, which was actually rather roomy compared to other cells he had been tossed into. The design was different than he had seen before, having three concrete walls on each side of him, with the final wall being a sturdy gate that stretched to cover every inch of the opening, with a small gated doorway in the center. There seemed to be only two other cells in this small section he was in, one on either side of him, with the only entrance or exit being the large metal door on the far left side of the cell block.

The creak of that very door snapped McCoy from his thoughts.

"Gau-tul reht!" a deep voice boomed, startling McCoy into taking a step backwards.

"Rii-juk ga luut-pah!" the voice continued, growing closer to McCoy's cell.

McCoy moved closer to the gate of his cell at the sound of clinking keys following the creak of the cell door to his left. Another prisoner?

Slowly, he moved to peer through the gate to catch a glimpse of who it was. If he was lucky, it would be another crewman. And if he was even luckier, they would be conscious and able to help figure out how to escape from here.

McCoy caught sight of the backs of two guards, and then a third, larger guard who exited the cell and turned to lock the door. The larger one paused and looked directly at McCoy. The doctor hastily stepped back just before the guard moved forward and swung two of his four burly arms against the gate, causing it to revolt harshly. He moved to see McCoy fully, looking the man up and down before shaping what looked like a mouth into a grin.

"Pah-tuuk reg kiin-stal." The guard growled, straightening his back and promptly folding the bottom two of his four arms behind his back. He walked alongside the length of the cage, letting a single claw drag from link to link along the large gate as he kept his gaze fixed on McCoy. “Maah-luk ga tuus a-kier?”

McCoy simply stood still, returning the guard's look glare for glare. "Where's the rest of my crew?" he spoke up moments later.

The large guard blinked, his grin fading as he stopped at the far end of the cell’s gate. "Hek-pah toh jaak-mi."

McCoy sighed, crossing his arms. "Well, I'm sorry but I don't speak Lorenthian, or whatever your species' language is." It seemed there was no easy way to communicate with them, at least until he could get ahold of a translator, which was at the moment very unlikely.

For a few seconds that seemed to drag on much longer, the large guard stared at McCoy-directly into his eyes, as if to bore a hole straight into them. Still, McCoy didn’t back down, even if inside his nerves were shaking.

“Reh-taag.” The larger guard called to his subordinates, who immediately stood up straight and marched towards the door. The large guard opened his supposed mouth to speak, but stopped short as he was interrupted by what sounded like a shrill, consistent squealing, and what McCoy could only assume was an alarm of sorts. The guard growled a phrase under his breath that McCoy was able to identify from the being’s demeanor as a curse as he looked to the other guards and waved them off. He gave McCoy one last good stare and forcing himself to turn and leave the cell block.

Once the guards had gone, McCoy let out a deep breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in, and sat down against the wall to his left. Leaning his head back, he felt the painful ache of where he had been hit when they first beamed down, and reached up a hand to gently touch it and see exactly how tender it was. No bleeding, which he was grateful for, and it seemed to hit just the right spot to knock him out but not cause any lasting damage. Either these aliens knew exactly where to hit, or McCoy had gotten lucky.

Speaking of luck, McCoy recalled the other prisoner on the other side of the wall he was leaning against. “Jim?” he called out eagerly. “Spock? Sulu?”

No response. In fact, he hadn’t heard a single rustle of movement from the other cell since his cellmate joined him, though that was only a few minutes ago. Well, whoever it was, he only hoped they were an ally, which didn't look like very good chances given he was in a large prison that was undoubtedly chock full of dangerous beings. The next thing he needed was to add another potential danger to his life at the moment. So he waited.

 

* * *

 

It was once again that McCoy found himself digging a circular path into the cell floor as he resumed his earlier pacing. An hour had passed with no sound from the other cell, and no sign of any rescue effort just yet. Shortly after the guard had left, the supposed alarm sounded again, but with it brought no change-at least that McCoy could see. That was at least forty-five minutes ago, when the sun was still up. He was beginning to wonder just what Jim and the crew were doing up there that was taking such a damn long time.

Finally, needing to rest his eyes and mind for even just a few moments, McCoy sat back down against the now cold wall and carefully leaned his head back. Slowly, he took a deep breath in and let it out. When he breathed in again, he pursed his lips and let out a soft whistle, changing the pitch when he breathed out, and continuing until he formed a notable tune. He continued to do so for about a minute before transitioning the whistle into a hum, and then the hum into lyrics.

"Sittin' in a truck stop,

And a waitress tells me,

‘Ah, boy you got a good smile’,

Might take you a long way,

Long way from Georgia..."

The doctor couldn’t help but smirk at that last line. Not only was he nowhere near Georgia, or Earth, for that matter, but he was actually deeper into unexplored space than any federation ship has been before. And yet, as the ship’s instruments had picked up before they beamed down, humanoid civilizations still stretched even this far out. That mere fact was fascinating in itself.

“I do suggest you remain within the medical field, doctor, as singing is not your strongest suit.”

McCoy jolted at the words, eyes snapping open and quickly searching for the origin of the voice; a deep, stoic and irritatingly smooth voice that McCoy could even recognize in a blizzard, if it came down to it. “Spock!” he called, practically leaping to his feet as he approached the gate, putting aside the Vulcan’s comment to be discussed in length later. Seeing no-one, he moved as far left as he could go and tried his best to peer into the cell beside his, but found his effort fruitless due to the angle. Looking down, he spotted a puddle of... presumably water that he could barely spot the familiar signature sciences uniform that matched his own, save for the difference in the rank stripes on the sleeves.

“So it is you!” he exclaimed gleefully as he reached up to grab ahold of the gate to get a better view.

“Do not touch the gate!”

McCoy’s hands immediately jumped back at the warning. McCoy’s brow furrowed as he examined the gate. “Why not?”

“The gates to these cells are electrically charged. I am unsure to what extent, however I’m certain the experience would be unpleasant nonetheless.”

“Alright, noted.” He looked back at Spock though the gate. “Is Jim or anyone else in there too?”

“No, I am alone.”

“Well, do you know where he is?”

“Presumably back on the Enterprise. I was captured like yourself and then brought here.”

McCoy paused. “Wait, I had been here for hours before they brought you in here. And it’s been at least another hour since then. Don’t tell me-”

“I am fine, doctor.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” McCoy moved as close to the wall as he could to get a good look at the Vulcan's reflection, but the man turned away. McCoy furrowed his brow at the action. “God, being out for so long... What did they do to you?”

“A simple interrogation." Spock spoke up, still turned away from the doctor as he analyszed his cell. "The translator my tricorder is equipped with was damaged, thus I was unable to determine much of their purpose here, save for this facility was not built by the species that is currently utilizing it.”

“Okay, so they obviously got nothing out of you, but that doesn’t explain why you were unconscious for at least an hour.”

“Indeed, my experience has not been entirely peaceful.”

McCoy grimaced at the news.

“That was, however, neither their fault nor intention.”

“What?” McCoy’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“As they brought me out of the interrogation room and on my way to this cell, there was a unchained and exceedingly violent prisoner whose path myself and the guards happened to be in. Needless to say, I was injured in the prisoner’s attempted escape, however, my wounds are not life threatening.”

“Even if you say so, I still would like a professional medical opinion; quite preferably my own. And they didn’t even try to treat you? They don’t sound like they have peaceful intentions, or act like it either, for that matter.”

“Doctor, I am unsure that they have the capability to treat us here. From what I witnessed, the species’ biology allows for remarkably fast healing when injured, and there was nowhere I could find that held an infirmary of sorts. Additionally, one of the guards did attempt to bind my wound using cloth torn from my own uniform.”

“Well, I’m still not convinced. Are you sure we met the same guards? The one I encountered was far from peaceful.”

“What specifically occurred that gave you the impression of hostility or aggression?”

McCoy crossed his arms. “Well, specifically when they came to drop you off and the largest of the three guards slammed two of his burly arms against the gate, no doubt to startle me.”

“I see,” Spock mused as he looked over to the gate beside him. “It is possible that they were trying to keep you from touching the gate itself, as it is indeed charged with some amount of electricity, that apparently they are either resistant or immune to.”

“Well, if that is true, they could have found another less intimidating way to do it.” McCoy sighed. He squinted to try to see more of the Vulcan, but the angle and gate kept hindering his line of sight. “Where are you injured? You still haven’t told me.”

“...I have a minor laceration on my right arm, that has already been bound, and took a minor blow to the back of my head.”

“It was enough to knock you out. I’d hardly call that minor.”

“If my memory serves me correctly, you were also knocked out using a similar method.”

“Well yes, but it’s rather easy to diagnose and treat myself, Spock. You may know a few things, you’re not qualified like I am. So, tell me exactly how you feel so I can help you help yourself. Any nausea, dizziness, or headaches?”

Spock let out what would have resembled a sigh, if he was prone to such expressions. “None. The point of impact on my head is sore to the touch, however it appears there are no lasting effects at the moment.”

“Alright.” McCoy nodded. “Your responses aren’t delayed or slurred either, so no concussion, then. That’s good news, at least. Now come show me your arm.”

After a moment's hesitance, Spock did as instructed and moved so that the doctor could get a better view of his arm through the puddle, even if the cell walls were too thick and the gate too dangerous to allow for any physical work.

“Alright, it doesn’t look infected, so it should be fine for awhile. Just keep it on tight.” McCoy nodded as Spock moved to sit down where he was. McCoy turned to lean against the wall and looked around the cell block they were in. “Though I’d still prefer to get you fully checked out on the ship, or at least get my equipment back for now.”

“I am certain the Captain is searching for us both as we speak. Right now, it is a matter of patience, as I am formulating an escape plan.”

“That reminds me, that prisoner who escaped and injured you earlier-did they catch him?”

“I was not conscious to see, however I do not doubt they did. The native species appears quite intelligent and remarkably physically apt, which does complicate matters.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to come up with an actual, workable plan?”

“Based on our limited information, precise deductions and calculations would take me approximately ten minutes. However, I am doubtful we would be able to execute it for a few hours, at most.”

McCoy yawned into his hand. “And how long do you think before Jim finds us?”

“The likelihood of Jim finding us before sunrise is quite low.”

“Well, until then I’m going to rest. You should too, soon.” McCoy yawned again as he slid down to sit against the wall. “Wake me if there’s a fire.”

Spock piqued an eyebrow at the request. “Obviously.”

 


End file.
